The Writing Prompt Boot Camp

A Letter From Your Favorite Childhood Toy

You open the mail and receive a letter from one of your favorite childhood toys, explaining what the toy has been up to all these years since you have moved on. Some of it comes as a shock to you. What’s even more shocking is the reason the toy is contacting you.

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228 thoughts on “A Letter From Your Favorite Childhood Toy”

Dear Pebbles
What an interesting name you have now! I finally got with the program and looked you up. I just wanted to tell you that I met a purple unicorn, and boy is she something else! I think you’d’ve liked playing with her. I always appreciated the adventures we went on, and wanted to tell you to keep your imagination alive. It’s the most precious thing you have. Know that I love you now, and always have.

There’s something refreshing about waking to the sound of buzzing flies. It’s sign of decay, and decay means progress, because it implies death and death is where we all end up eventually. A lone fly has wandered up from the basement to land on my nose. I catch him carefully and take him downstairs. “Don’t worry little buddy,” I whisper to him. “There’s nothing for you guys to eat down here, is there? Time to go hunting.”
I’ve always had a way with flies.
The clock on the wall says 2 AM. Well, it doesn’t literally SAY 2 AM. Sometimes it does. But not this time. 2 AM feels like a good time to check the mail, so I do. I never get letters, but I like to check my mailbox regularly. It’s a good idea to have a little normalcy and routine in one’s life.
There’s a letter for me, which is a little unusual because as I said I never get letters, unless of course I write them to myself, which I do sometimes because too much routine is not good for a person. I said a little routine, damn it!
Anyway, I don’t remember writing myself a letter recently, which means someone else must have written it. If something happens, and you didn’t do it, you can usually infer that someone else did it. I open the letter.
“I know what you did,” I read aloud. “You think you’re the only one, but you’re not. You were so careful, too! I know because I watched. You were all alone in that room, all alone because they just didn’t understand you. I felt sorry for you sometimes, watching how they treated you. But I stopped feeling sorry for you that day. You know what day I’m talking about. You took that gun and ‘took care of them’, one by one, mommy, daddy, and little sister. Then you were so careful to clean that gun and hide it, and you were so careful with the bodies. It was almost like you loved them, how careful you were with them when you touched them. You got them all bagged up and ready to go, and you put them in daddy’s truck. Then you carefully cleaned the room. You did it so much better than when mommy asked you to clean your room.
I know that they weren’t the last ones, either. Because I was the first. I’m your little sister’s doll. The one that she loved so much. You chopped me up in little tiny pieces, and left me on her bed. You thought they threw me away, but little sister kept me. I was there. I know. And I know you’ve done it again, and again, and I’m writing to ask you to stop, just stop, stop, stop, STOP!” I’m screaming now. Then I rip up the letter, and throw it away.
Silly doll, it can write letters to me but it can’t tell on me! Because dolls…don’t…have…mouths!

I just want to say thank you. I heard you read those books by Ann Martin about those dolls, the china ones and the plastic ones, to Tiffany and then Nancy, and I also know that you never threw me out or even put me in the attic like Oscar, Oliver, Tiddlywinks, etc. I suppose its because of my age.

I still remember you, at three years old, finding me. I was dirty, ragged and torn. I had almost melted my candy heart out of sorrow, that your mother had left me there. But you cared for me. I got a new set of clothes, made by your great-aunt, and even when you were fifteen, you still couldn’t sleep right unless I was in your arms. I also remember that time in third grade, you brought me in for show and tell, and that awful boy who had left was visiting, and I would have leaped out of your arms, he was so…unkind! Thankfully, you began hitting him with me, having nothing else, and besides, I was stuffed full of nice clean cotton, remember?

I know that you were sad as a child. I know that you always put your friends before yourself, though it didn’t help you at all. But then you met Johnny. And he changed your life! He brought you flowers, candy, and even those books you love so much. Your grandparents loved him, and so did your parents. I remember that time when we had that tea party, with your grandparents, after learning about my adventures, especially the one about the paper dragon. You didn’t really have tea parties as a child. I remember that impostor your mother got. She also got an impostor of my dear brother, Andy. But you weren’t fooled.

I just wanted to say thank you, Lauren. I could’ve ended up in goodwill, and believe me, I am actually grateful to your mother for not throwing me away, and I’m also grateful that I had such a nice and pleasant home in your grandmother’s attic, and that you found me and kept me. As I write, I watch Nancy sleeping. She’s a lot like you, you know. But, she has more confidence. And you should too.

With All Our Love,
Raggedy Ann, Tiffany’s old Little Bear, and Emily,
in the places of honor on Nancy’s Bed Brigade.